A Dutiful Wife

by Sydney Michelle

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

We made church, barely. We gave each other extra pit scrubs and walked a little gingerly, but we made it. Twice in a row was definitely not our pattern, but I felt the need. At the social hour, we made a point of joining the circles of couples who were expecting or carrying infants. We would be a bit behind, but you might as well get started on joining the group before it became obvious.

When Rev. Thistlewaite cut me out, I explained that I had a schedule conflict with choir and that we were carefully considering his advice about godparents. Actually I had avoided talking to Thelma and Jan about it at all, not wanting to jinx the test results.

That evening we tried to be good, really we did. I put in some time catching up my diaries so I could hand over a file on Monday, along with my urine sample. Blake talked to her mother, letting her know officially we were trying. After all we weren’t going to be able to pretend that it just "happened." We ate light but balanced, and I even stayed away from chocolate. Then there was a long evening, snuggling in our warm fuzzies as though that would keep us off one another. We popped in High Society, thinking back to that February evening when Jan did her Grace Kelly imitation and walked off with second prize. When Grace and Bing sang True Love, Blake and I were sniffling all over the place. Well, me mainly, but she was a little misty eyed as she comforted me.

When the movie ended, I snuggled up close, my hand clasped in hers. "It was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?"

"How can you miss with Princess Grace as the main attraction?"

"No, Silly! Ours."

"Give me a heads up will you, when you jump tracks? Yes, it was. I think."

"You think?"

"Things were a little fuzzy most of the time. Between not forgetting the ring and not forgetting my lines, all I could see was the most beautiful girl in the world standing next to me."

"Oh, Blake; you say the most beautiful things." My hand stole around her neck and I was lost in a kiss. I could have tried to get pregnant all over again.

As it was, we stole off to bed after a quick check of the forecast. We were good, for us, or should I say even for us. It was all manual, but it was mutual and it gave us hope for when I would be big as a house. We snuggled in, all lovey-dovey, both of us more than a little excited at getting confirmation we, that is I was expecting. One thing for sure, Mary Elizabeth was going to grow up secure knowing her parents really and truly loved one another.

For a change, the weatherwoman got it right: a light rain was falling and temps were down, the first cold front of the year having swept in during the night. Light rain gear and extra travel time would be in order, although the day was supposed to break cool and clear by early afternoon. With the cool, I opted for a sweater under my suit, a pretty light green that complemented my dark grass green suit with a back vent skirt.

I could work without my coat and I looked forward to that. With a little support, I presented a very nice bust. A sweater gave me a chance to show it off. Wearing Jolene’s Gibson and dangling curls and a little gold locket from Blake, I had a very attractive profile if I do say so myself. Blake wasn’t the only one who liked a little attention, although I wasn’t as blatant about it. Still, it was flattering to have a young associate hang around a little longer than necessary, surely fantasizing about doing unspeakably wonderful things to the tips my mounds with his mouth, if I would just give him the chance.

A goodbye kiss in raincoats and little booties, and we went our separate ways. I was at the clinic when the doors opened, determined to get it out of the way. Early in, early returns, so I made a brief stop in the Ladies and was off, urine and disc in the care of the tech. Having a pussy stick made the process a little quicker.

Thanks to the appointment, I was at work early, happy as a lark. Mr. Davidson passed a very pleasant, "Good Morning, Mrs. Jones. The fall weather has you feeling tip-top, I trust," as he passed by. It’s nice to be well thought of.

The day went smoothly, the usual requests a little heavier now that the fall term was under way. Monday’s were usually heavy since the clerks had had all weekend to review briefs and pile up needed back-up cites of legislative histories and decisions. On Mondays, you got your requests in the queue and waited for them to print before heading off that afternoon to the copy machine. At this time of the session, nine would only get ten that at least one clerk would make the exact same request. File copies saved us a lot of query time.

Mrs. Hutchison made a point of asking me at lunch how I was doing. I could only guess that Mr. Davidson was having her keep an eye on me until he was satisfied I was in no danger. I decided to venture into uncharted waters.

"Is Mr. Davidson alright? He seemed extra chipper this morning."

"I fail to see why that should be cause for alarm." Mrs. Hutchison was a bear about privacy.

"It’s just that sometimes people over-compensate. He seemed a little sad, worried maybe, a week or so ago. I was hoping whatever it was had passed. He’s such a dear man."

"Perhaps he was. He lost his wife almost forty years ago in late August."

"Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. He never remarried, did he?"

"No, he didn’t. He put all his love into the daughter his wife carried."

"I never knew he had family."

"She passed on one spring about ten years ago. She had been feeling out of sorts for some time. When they finally checked, she had inoperable uterine cancer. Losing Amelia almost destroyed him."

"Oh. I won’t breathe a word. Maybe that’s why he’s so protective of ‘his girls.’ I’d like to do something to cheer him up, but I wouldn’t want to intrude."

"Continue being polite and efficient, that would be best. Next year, when he completes fifty years of service, something would be appropriate."

"I’d love to help."

"After the first of the year, we’ll start planning." She smiled and left the break room. For the first time, I didn’t feel like an interloper around her.

The rest of the day was routine, busy with familiar tasks. It only began to weigh heavy when the afternoon break came around. I tried to stay busy, but I couldn’t help stealing peeks at the clock, wondering why the clinic had not called. Each time the phone rang, I jumped, as nervous as a long tailed cat. It was four thirty when the phone beeped softly on my direct line.

"This is Mrs. Jones. May I help you?"

"Hi, Hon. I won’t take long. Clinic call?"

It was Blake. My heart sank. "No, not yet. No news is just no news, but still."

"I know. It seems like forever. Love you."

"Love you back." Blake clicked off.

I sighed, returned to creating folders for copied cites. The originals went into a fattening stack of inter-office mail envelopes. It helped time pass, which seemed to creep ever slower. The trouble with digital clocks? There’s no sweep hand to let you see time pass, no steady tick-tock of a swinging pendulum to mark the passage of time.

It was ten ‘til when the direct line beeped again.

"This is Mrs. Jones. May I help you?"

"Mrs. Jones, this is the Richards O&G Clinic."

"Yes?"

"We just wanted to let you know that your test results haven’t come back. They should be here first thing in the morning."

"Is this unusual? I was in early."

"It happens sometimes, depending upon the load from our other clinics. Don’t attach any significance to it."

"Thank you." It was news, of a sort. It meant another night on tenterhooks.

The remaining half hour crept by. I had no heart for dry commentaries on human misery and conflict. Objectively, the controversies were more important than my concern, one that happened to women every day. But this was happening to me, to us, overwhelming all our past and future. All I wanted to know was that I was carrying Mary Elizabeth, that I would be her mommie. At that moment, that’s all that mattered.

The air was crisp as I left work. My raincoat shell made a welcome layer besides providing big pockets for my booties. The sky may have been clear, but my heart was heavy laden. Could something have gone wrong?

 

§§§

 

"Hello, Mom?

"No, no news yet. Maybe tomorrow.

"She’s still at work.

"Uh-huh. I’m a little down.

"No, the clinic says it’s not unusual. It’s just I’d hoped . . .

"Thank you, Mom. I love you too. Give my best to Dad, will you?

"Yes, I’ll let Jen know when I know.

"Really? I can’t imagine her being at all excited at the prospect of becoming an aunt. Will wonders never cease?

"Love you. Bye."

There’s nothing quite as reassuring as the sound of your mother’s voice. Unless it’s a cup of hot chocolate. Mary Elizabeth might as well get used to her mother being a choc-oholic. Besides there can’t be that much caffeine in one cup. With marshmallows.

 

§§§

 

Blake was home early to a welcome hug as she came through the door. I had already changed into a dress, your basic mid-sleeve shift in dark russet, an early fall holdover from last year. The dark color matched my mood as well as the season. A light sweater thrown over my shoulders meant I wouldn’t catch a chill as the temperature fell after sundown. I had changed my jewelry to wifely, simple buttons in my ears, a tiny, fine hoop hung from my septum bar, a twisted rope bracelet on my wrist.

"You look nice. You sure you want to go out?"

I nodded. "I couldn’t cook tonight. Nuke something maybe, but I really need to be distracted."

"Just give me a minute."

"Don’t dawdle." A quick kiss had to do me as Blake disappeared into the bedroom. I settled down with a new magazine, counting on Blake’s "minute" to be a clock’s twenty. After all, she is still very much a woman and face repair alone would take five to ten. But I had barely found the recipe section, "Quick and Hearty Meals for Two to Ten," when Blake’s fingers touched my shoulder.

"Pearl River? I’ll drive."

I smiled as she gave me her hand to help me up. "This must be a record turn around."

"No point keeping a lady waiting." She had doffed her suit cost, changed to a long sleeved, open necked, blouse, applied brighter lipstick, and tied a sweater around her shoulders. She had changed from business professional to casual in less than five minutes, and she wasn’t even breathing hard.

Our favorite casual Chinese restaurant let us eat well without stuffing. Discretely dim lights meant our holding hands under the table wasn’t likely to raise eyebrows. Blake chattered about work, going on at length about how another associate had totally missed the point of a case. For another lawyer, it might have been interesting, but I was getting a glimmer of why Mom always made sure there was wine or drinks available before dinner. But I was on water until further notice. Still Blake was trying, and there were compliments and hand squeezes mixed in, so it wasn’t that bad.

We were back early, too late for a movie, not in the mood for hot and heavy. The place was a little chilly from the front, not cold, but a little damp. Blake turned the heat on to take the chill off. I hit my diaries, Blake the tub. We had settled down enough over the last year to not have to be in each other’s presence every minute, but having my woman around the house was definitely a comfort.

I was in the bedroom shedding clothes while Blake was still relaxing in the tub. My jewelry out, a light robe on, I went to remove my face. Blake’s leg was on the side of the tub, hand rubbing her shin.

"When you’re done, would you shave my legs?"

"You really should let Jolene wax them."

"Razors are cheaper. Besides you’re so good at it. And I like it when you do me."

I paused in mid-scrub, my face covered in thin lather. "I didn’t realize being your personal maid was part of a wife’s duties."

Blake waved a hand airily. "Page three, paragraph nine, sub-paragraph c. Check it out."

I threw a washcloth at her face. "Pooh. It’s a good thing you’re such a stud in bed or I’d leave you for remarks like that."

"Never, my love. You can never get enough of this hot box of mine." Blake laughed, then her face softened. "I can never get enough of you either."

"Well, if you put it like that, sure." My skin down to pores, I turned to Blake as I dried my face. "Full service, lady? We’re running a special tonight."

"Of course. Fill ‘er up." Blake extended her leg, pointing her toes.

I sat on the edge, putting her foot on a towel. I dried it, then began a slow massage.

"Uhm, good. Shoes are too damn narrow."

"You could get broader ones."

"Those won’t stay on my heel. Oh, yeah, do that again."

My thumb gently pressed between the balls of her feet. Then I moved to her toes. "This little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none, and this little piggy tastes so-o good." I bent my head down, taking her middle toes into my mouth. My tongue swirled, licking the tender underside. "Uh-hmm. You taste so-o good."

Blake’s head was back, mouth open, hand clenching the side of the tub. "Don’t do that again unless you want to get wet."

"You’re a big girl. You can control your leg."

"You bet I can. I’ll just wrap them around you and pull you in and ravish you. I’d be sorry to get your pretty hair all wet, but it’d be worth it."

I cupped the wide side of my carefully preserved hairdo. "I don’t know. This got me a lot of action this weekend. You destroy it, and you’ll have a radar dome for a partner the next two nights. But I appreciate the thought. Now be still."

"I dunno. Just to hear you squeal, ‘Blake, Blake, you’re so-o-o good!" ought to be worth it."

"I can do that sitting right here, if your ego is so in need of stoking."

"It wouldn’t be the same. When you cling to me as you shoot inside me, I know you mean it. And it makes me feel good to take care of you."

My breasts must have grown a bra size at that comment. I pulled her leg up, loving how my breast nestled in the arch of her foot. A washrag, a bar of soap, a quick rub, and I began to lather her shin. "I love being taken care of by you. I do make you happy, don’t I?"

"Delirious. My panties are wet half the time around you." Her toes twiddled around my teat.

"Hhm. Keep that up and I might just jump in on top of you."

"Next place we get has got to have a bigger tub."

"Definitely." I started slow even strokes down her calf. I loved the feel of the curve of her calf, the long taper down to her ankle, slender but strong. Those legs, as I knew so well, could hold me and control me, keeping us joined through our explosions.

I toweled soap streaks before stating the hardest area to avoid nicking, the back of the knee. Then it was her thigh, first outside, trim muscles with well defined ridges, then the top, long, potent. Lastly it was the inside, smooth and sleek, with almost no stubble, but one ought to be thorough. Besides, she purrs when I gently rub soap off. Was it because my hands had become soft now that I applied lotion at least twice a week? Or was it because Sharon kept my nails in top condition, with lovely rounded points to scrape delicately over sensitive flesh? Or could it be that she knew I couldn’t resist running a digit slowly up her thigh, twirling damp strands around the tip before running it between pliant folds? Whatever the reason, my digit always found her love button. A press, a caress, a gentle entry, and my beloved’s skin took on a rosy glow.

Recipe: two legs carefully shaven, with a high-diddle, diddle in the middle; one relaxed body lifted carefully from warm water; rub gently with a soft towel and dust with scented powder. Result: Multiple "I love you’s" and lots of hungry kisses. Beware of premature explosions.

We turned the heat off to save on the utility bill. Actually it just gave us an excuse for a light cover and to turn on our personal heat. Besides, Blake just had to hear me moan, "Blake, you’re so-o-o good!" A dutiful wife can’t disappoint her dama, now can she?

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

We should have left the heat on a little. Rental carpeting is anything but plush and the floor was definitely cool when I hit the deck. It put a little scamper in my movements, sitting with arched toes as the bath ran and the heat pump made up its mind to actually provide warm dry air. I would have loved to just sit in the fog, but the filling tub meant I didn’t have that luxury.

The mirror was already beginning to fog when I stuck in a toe. The water was a little cooler than I wanted, thanks to the cool front’s effect on the pipes. It was tolerable, but I wouldn’t linger. Not that I could. Thanks to Blake’s tending to her wife’s mental health, she would need a bird bath while I fixed breakfast. So it was tuck my curls, or what remained of them, under my shower cap, slide down to get my pits thoroughly wet and get on with it. The problem with shallow tubs? When you sit up, even with the door closed and the heat starting to kick in, your back chills rapidly.

After the bath, I rubbed a viewing hole on the mirror to make myself presentable. Stubble in the pits? A little touch-up next weekend would be in order. Maybe I could wheedle Blake into gifting her new mommie some electrolysis for Christmas. My curls were kaput, kissed and crushed beyond repair. In the over two years I had been wearing my hair in dos full time, I had acquired some maintenance skills. What had been inviting spirals were combed smooth, lightly backbrushed, the strands smoothed over the somewhat flattened mass. A few pins, some spray, and I was good as new. Sure it was. Fortunately my head would be back in Jolene’s skilled hands the next morning.

The mirror became streaky under the warm draft as I started to apply my face. Before I touched a pore, I applied an antiseptic swab to the bar in my septum. It had been healed forever, but a little prevention never hurt. Between the inevitable sinus drainage and whatever floated in as you breathed, you wouldn’t want an infection there.

That first summer in College Switch, when Jean had dared the rest of us to have our noses done, our initial reaction had been, "No way!" She wanted a full ring to please Nikki, not just a little stud in the nostril wall which Jan and I considered tacky enough. When Jodi caved and said it might be exciting sometimes, just in private, we agreed to go along despite our misgivings. Our noses had been tender for awhile, and we had driven Blake and Drew a little nuts. But that first weekend when Nikki and Shelby were available to tend to their girls and we felt hoops dangle on our lips behind thin scarves, we discovered there’s a lot to be said for this love slave business. Ordinarily we just keep a little bar in the hole to keep it from closing up. I have several rings which just hook over it which saves the pain of trying to locate the hole. But Jan and I will put in full hoops when we dance.

It didn’t take long after I started wearing dresses as normal attire for me to discover that the "natural" look required almost the same amount of effort as a "sophisticated" face. Being a redhead, I tend to freckle slightly in the sun, so I can’t escape makeup. I need foundation for sun block during the summer, feathered well down my throat so my complexion doesn’t suddenly shift gears. I do have a nice neck, no prominent Adam’s Apple, so I always wear something there, a necklace or a brooch if my collar is closed, a cameo velvet ribbon or pearl choker if we’re out for an evening.

My face in place, I woke Sleeping Beauty for her turn in the bath, while I got my bottom layers on. My favorite gartered girdle would soon have to be laid aside, and my lacy bras would have to give way to nursing bras. I had come to love the feel of fine material, and I would miss them a lot. My stockings were toupe, no seams. I was in my robe, starting breakfast, before Blake was done. At first, I could barely put on my undies without getting stiff. Now it was just my stuff, unless I had plans for getting Blake’s attention.

Breakfast was quick, eggs and muffin and a couple of strips of bacon each. It and Blake were done at almost the same time. We read part of the paper as we ate, Blake the editorials, me the amusement page. We were starting to play bridge since some of the partners played, socially, so I read the column and a few comics.

The forecast was cool and fair, a foretaste of the fall weather that Jan and I had targeted for our first trimester. A long sleeved-cream blouse, a below the knee, back vent navy skirt, and a vee-neck, long sleeved complementary sweater were suitably professional. I would be work Lexus requests that day. Of course I wore jewelry, all gold toned, ear shrimps, a thin bracelet, and a heart shaped locket with Blake’s picture inside. And my wedding set. I almost never take that off.

We went our separate ways after a quick kiss for luck. I was getting a wee bit nervous again, knowing the magic phone call would surely come that day. The drive to work was uneventful, except I must have checked whether my cell phone was on at every stop light. I even had time to sip an O.J. and breathe deep before attacking the stack of research requests. I had hoped there might be a little pink message slip of a call from the clinic, but no such luck.

It was when I headed for the break room to give my dogs a rest that Joan Blanchard caught my eye. "You had a couple of calls. One from your significant, no message, but there’s a call back in your box on the other."

My heart leapt. This was it, It had to be. I trotted to the message boxes, full with the morning mail distribution. There were always a half dozen flyers with announcements and reminders of office business and staff news. Digging through it was more annoying than usual, but there it was, the precious pink slip, two from the bottom, between the garage sale announcement and the reminder of the monthly staff meeting. It was! I recognized the clinic’s phone number.

The extension in the employee lounge was just a little too public. If it were negative, I would need to compose myself. If positive, I was all too likely to make a public spectacle of myself. My cell phone would have to do. But where? Mr. Davidson strictly forbade the use of cell phones inside Tanner. Even patrons had to go outside so they would not bother the others. That was it. A small area with high back stone benches faced a granite high relief statute entitled "Judgement." That had become the unofficial spot for cell calls. Intended as a contemplative nook, the benches were sheltered by a purglar overhang. Real privacy came from its location, between Tanner and the Court buildings; that and the etiquette of the place dictated that everyone ignore each other’s phone calls.

I hustled my bustle out to the Judgement seats, hoping they would be relatively empty. Fortunately there was only one person there so I was able to cross over and sit on the opposite end. Nervous, it took three tries to get all ten numbers punched in correctly. The switchboard picked up on the second ring.

"Richards Hospital O&G Clinic. May I help you?"

"This is Mrs. Jones. I received a call from Dr. Laney’s nurse."

The recorded music came on while I waited for the transfer. It was classical, strings, picked to soothe the nerves of nervous mothers. Fortunately I only got a sample before Karen picked up.

"This is Karen Norwood of Dr. Laney’s office; how may I help?"

"Karen, this is Mrs. Jaimie Jones. You have news for me?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jones. Your lab results have come in. Hold on for a moment while I find them."

For music that was supposed to be soothing, it could be incredibly annoying.

"Here we are. Standard urine sample analysis, all results normal except I’m afraid you’re definitely pregnant, Mrs. Jones. Congratulations."

I could barely whisper a reply before punching off. I sat still a moment, hugging myself, wanting to laugh, cry, and jump for joy all at the same time. In my mind, my form cartwheeled across the plaza, paneled skirt flying out from Vee-ed legs, white panties flashing in the sun. It landed before my startled colleague, arms up, hands coming to my sweatered breast points to punctuate the cheer. Two, four, six, eight! Who do we impregnate? Jaimie! Jaimie! Jaimie!

Instead I rose from the bench and walked calmly across the plaza, headed back to work. Well, there was that uncontrollable skip at the entrance to the area followed by a crouch and shaking of clenched fist arms and exclaiming "Yes! Yes! Yes!" By the looks on the faces of the men coming around the corner, they didn’t know whether to congratulate me or commit me.

 

§§§

 

The rest of the morning was a daze. If the copy and stuff routine hadn’t become so automatic I could do it in my sleep, there’s no telling who would have gotten what. As it was, Mrs. Hutchison had to ask if I were feeling quite well after I almost ran her down as I walked down the hall in a daze with an armload of mailers.

"Oh, yes. Everything is wonderful, thank you." I followed up that brilliant repartee by walking halfway into the Men’s room. Why that one comes first, I’ll never know. After all it’s so much faster to just pull down a zipper when we in the pantied set have to get half undressed when seconds count. The Ladies should be closest.

When my lunch break came round, I went back to the Judgement seats. There were way more people around, taking advantage of the pleasant weather to eat sandwiches outside. I just had to let Blake, Jan, and Thelma know the results before I told any of my co-workers. Blake was at a client conference, so I just left a message: "Confirmed extra passenger." She’d get the point.

Jan was easy, she still did contract editing for ESU Press, working during the middle of the day in her home office. All I had to say was "Richards called." She took it from there.

"You are, aren’t you?"

"Yes."

"I’m just thrilled! It’s just like we talked about at my rehearsal dinner, having our first together! With Thelma all preggie too, we’ll be our own little support group. Oh, Jaimie! It’s just like a fairy tale, living happily ever after. I’m tearing up."

"I’m supposed to do that."

"Isn’t ti wonderful?" She sniffled. "I’m so glad we were roomies, and each other’s maid of honor, and you were so supportive when I said I wanted to be a bride, and, and just everything! You, you’re just the best friend a coman could have and I’m so happy for you!" Jan was in full tear.

"The Back Bench tonight? About eight?"

"Oh yes! We have to celebrate!" There was a gurgling sound. "I can’t talk. I’m all choked up."

"Tonight then." I punched off.

Thelma was a problem, She was part of the noon news show, so I couldn’t get through to her directly. By the time she wrapped, I would be back in the bowels of Tanner, pretending to work. But I had to call the restaurant anyway. If I could get Kenzie, I could leave a message with him. It took some negotiating, after all it was the lunch rush, but Gene put me through to the kitchen. I listened to the clash and clatter for what seemed an interminable time before Kenzie spoke into the phone.

"Jaimie? It’s awfully busy right now. Could you call back?"

"I have to go back in in a minute. I want you to fix something special for six tonight, if you can tear yourself away. And please pass this word to Thelma once she gets off air: She and Jan and I are all on the same program now."

"Program? Does this have something to do with the fund raiser?"

"The hospital, yes. Fund raisers, no. If you haven’t figured it out, She’ll explain it to you. Can you join us and fix something? No wine, no caffeine, easy on the salt?"

"I suppose. I’m getting practice with that now that . . ." There was silence, except for the kitchen hub-bub. "I’m dense, aren’t I? Thelma’s been saying you might be. You are, aren’t you? Having your own little bundle?"

"Uh-huh. Tell Thelma for me, won’t you? I gotta go and I shouldn’t keep you."

"Sure. What time was that again?"

"Let’s say eight."

"Got it. It’ll be ready and I’ll be there. I’m happy for you two."

 

§§§

 

With no message slip in my box, no message on my voice mail, I left word with the desk that I would be on Lexus that afternoon so they could forward my calls. I tried, I really tried to work through the stack, but the screen kept disappearing in a fog. My print count was well below par.

Just before my afternoon break, Blake was on the phone. "Your message did mean what I think it means?"

"And that would be, counselor?"

"I will have to add another name on my health plan."

"That’s the gist of it. And one other thing."

"What?" Blake’s voice had a note of panic. With the new job she was sensitive to surprises.

"You have to leave work at five tonight. Half past by the latest. We have eight o’clock dinner reservations at The Back Bench. Dress nice."

"A party, right?"

"A celebration. The Three Matriarchs are going to be feted tonight."

"Sounds expensive."

"Be appropriate, You can when you put your mind to it."

Blake rang off. I decided I was entitled to an early break since I wasn’t making much progress anyway. Mrs. Hutchison was already there, cupping a cup of instant flavored coffee. She looked up as I dropped coins in the vending machine for apple juice.

"Are you feeling alright, Mrs. Jones? You’re here a bit early."

I sat across from her, twisting the top. "I’m feeling fine. I got the most wonderful news today."

She sipped her Almond Roast. "You won the lottery and are retiring to Tahiti."

"No, much, much better than that." Mrs. Hutchison raised an eyebrow during the very pregnant pause. "I’m expecting." I took a first long swallow of juice.

"You mean your, uh, spouse is pregnant."

"No, I mean I’m pregnant. Isn’t it wonderful?"

Mrs. Hutchison was unflappable but this news caused her jaw to drop. "Is there a mistake in our personnel records? I distinctly recall an ‘M’ for your gender in our files."

"That’s right. We, that is Blake and I, are part of a research program to investigate the possibility of male pregnancy. We’re part of the proof that it’s possible. That’s why I took leave last week. And it worked!"

"Not to pry, but, uh, how?"

I sipped juice before replying. "In vitro. Last week was time for my implant. And today I heard it took. Isn’t it wonderful that I’m going to be a mommie?"

Mrs. Hutchison rested her head in her hands. "Oh sweet Lord. Whatever am I going to tell Mr. Davidson?"

"When I have a boy, I’ll name it after him?"

"Don’t jest. It’s just that we knew you were, uh, unusual, but your spouse was a clerk and your reference from Dr. Crane was exemplary. This will cause such a commotion in the routine."

"Why? Hasn’t Tanner had a pregnant librarian on staff before?"

"Of course. It’s just that, well, you’re not a woman! You’ve been very polite and attentive to your duties, but you’re neither fish nor fowl. A hermaphrodite, perhaps, or something. But you’re not a real woman. I tried not to consider it, thought perhaps your mother had hormonal problems carrying you, or you were one of nature’s oddities. But I never, I don’t consider you a real woman."

"And neither do I. The program calls us ‘comen’ if a label helps. I’m just fulfilling the duties of a loving wife. It’s just this one will limit my diet and mobility for the next few months."

Mrs. Hutchison shook her head. "I wouldn’t have believed it. I can’t believe it. After all we women go through, to have a fake woman have a baby?"

That shook me. I had been so focused on my adjustment to becoming pregnant, that it had slipped right past that there might be people other than my father who weren’t comfortable with the idea. To have a woman not swept up in the anticipatory joy of a hoped for child was something I had never considered. It was especially shocking since I had made an effort to blend in as one of Mr. Davidson’s "girls."

"I’m sorry if the news upsets you, Mrs. Hutchison. It took awhile for me to get used to the idea as well. But I assure you that other than scheduling visits with my obstetrician, I will make no extraordinary demands on Tanner’s routine."

"Dear me, dear me. To say this is unexpected is an understatement. I would imagine you are fully protected by the provisions of the State’s Sexual Discrimination amendment, but I have no idea how Mr. Davidson will react. If you would do me the favor of taking the rest of the day off? We’ll just call it ‘Training.’ One of the other girls will finish up your research requests. Oh, dear me, whatever will Mr. Davidson say?"

Discretion being the better part of valor, I did as she asked.

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

Being home early, I could really plan what I would wear that evening. Hot rollers got plugged in to create a few kissable curls after my bath. I ran a warm bath with skin softening bubbles. After Mrs, Hutchison’s comments I really needed to put out of my mind that over which I had no control.

I slid under the suds as best as that inadequate tub allowed, blowing foam away from my mouth. Gently I cupped my breasts, dripping warm water over them. My finger tip traced the aureola rings, the nipples fattening and distending in my mind’s eye as my jugs filled with milk.

I crossed my arms, holding Mary Elizabeth in my imagination as her little face sought me out to suck. How could I have ever thought I didn’t want that? If things had been different, I could happily have postponed being a father, then been distantly proud of them, I suppose. But fate and Blake had given me different opportunities, wonderful opportunities. I would bear, and nurse, and nurture our babies, our children. Yes, it was my wifely duty but more importantly it would be my wifely joy. Let Blake have her career, the thrust and parry over legal points.

So I would be more like Mom than Dad, I had loved and respected her as much if differently than he. So I had taken her love and support for granted, known she would buck me up even as Dad urged me on to try again and do better. I had needed both of them. If I could be as good a mommie as Mom, then my life would be worthwhile.

I relaxed in the warmth, tension flowing out of me. The Tanner Library? It was a nice place to work, but hardly the focal point of my life. I didn’t want to make enemies, but it was Jan and Thelma who counted in Capital City. In a year, after the expiration of my family leave, I would be a full time mommie anyway. Why worry over something that was temporary and certainly not essential?

My mind turned to my evening dress. Of course it must be special. My dark blue number with the flared skirt and diagonal sequins showed me off nicely. There was my white sheath with the empire waist, classic. How about the red, off the shoulder, hoop skirt I had worn at the Valentine’s ball after I had a real figure? Blake had been very appreciative after an evening of dancing cheek to cheek. Make that teat to teat. But what could be better than to revisit the instigation of all this, the Sadie Hawkins Dance? That sea green was the first formal Blake had poured me into and out of. Thelma had seen to it there was enough material to let out the seams. The little halter top draped off me so appealingly, now that I had something for it drape off of. It would bring back memories, and with my gold shawl, and the right jewelry, it would look fresh. The only drawback was that since my midriff would be exposed, I couldn’t wear my Merry Widow.

I was sitting at the vanity in my slip and blue lacy bra, curlers wound tight at my nape and brow, when Blake walked in. "Saw your car, but I didn’t expect you to be so far ahead of me."

"I took off early. No point crowding the bath."

"That’s not like you. You feeling Okay?"

I finished outlining my lips before turning around. "Actually, Mrs. Hutchison sent me home after I told her I was pregnant. I don’t think she thinks she can fire me, but I’m worried. But I’ll try to not to think about it tonight and deal with it tomorrow. Gimme a kiss."

I got a dutiful peck and a frown. "They can’t do anything. Pregnancy is considered a disability. Temporary, but a disability. I can’t imagine libraries posing a threat to a fetus, so that exception wouldn’t apply. We could win a legal fight if it came to it."

I put my hand on her arm. "It won’t. She was just worried about Mr. Davidson.

"That stick in the mud? Anything that hasn’t been done for at least a hundred years is too modern for him." Blake began stripping off her professional dress.

"He’s not that way at all. Even so, I wouldn’t want a court case. All that nastiness. And the publicity. Not the way we want our daughter to come into the world."

"I don’t want her mother being rolled over, either."

I batted my lashes, fighting off a tear. "That’s sweet, you protecting me. Let’s just not fight battles before we know we have one. Not tonight."

"Not tonight. Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow we see if Burnham wood comes to Dunsidane."

"Oh I hope not! The castle fell."

"But man not born of woman prevailed." She gave my shoulder a reassuring pat as she padded toward the bath, robe over her arm. I noticed her tush had grown since we had married. Long and heart shaped, it seemed just a bit fuller, more defined. All our sexercise, I supposed.

I donned full war paint while she bathed, including false lashes and a three color eyeshadow, toupe, teal, and gray. When I batted my lashes, my eyes were definitely the focus of my face, if not the windows to my soul. It was an "evening" face, too dramatic for full daylight, but necessary for candlelight and roses.

I was fixing my hair, carefully unrolling ringlets, when Blake started to sing as she toweled off. Her voice expanded off the bathroom tile, a lovely alto even if her range left a bit to be desired. Listening to her sing "I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair" might have been disconcerting if I hadn’t known that at the end Nellie had pledged her love to DeBeque. At least our equipment was right, even if our roles were reversed.

I was trying my third and last jeweled pin against my curls when she emerged, all pink and pretty. Her hands ran down over my shoulders, fingertips pressing against the tops of my breasts. It felt nice. So did her cheek next to mine.

"Is my beautiful bride all ready to celebrate?"

"Almost." I placed my hand over hers, secure in the closeness of her. "Which pin do you like best?" I held up rhinestone hair clasps.

"I like them all. What I really like is the coman wearing them." She nuzzled my neck. I purred.

"Really, Blake, behave."

"I am. Like a woman in love with her wife."

My tail spread. I was nothing if not receptive to flattery. "Hold that thought for later, lover. Which pin should I wear tonight?"

Blake straightened up, our fingers lingering in their touch. "With this hair? What about the paisley leaf? Set it high, curved around your curl cluster." She set the pin atop the right puff, the point peeking around my top curls. "How’s this?"

"Perfect. Pin it in, please?"

Having her groom me was just the most loving thing she could do, even better than a good grope. Different, anyway, and what I needed at the time.

"So when are we supposed to be there?"

"Eight."

"We have plenty of time."

"Not to get all fresh and pretty again afterwards, we don’t."

"You sure?" Her fingers ran down my back, tracing the ridge of my backbone.

I stood up. "I’m sure."

Her hands slipped beneath my panties, under my slip and garter belt. Her finger probed my crack. I gasped as she probed my love button, "Just a little play?"

"Well, maybe just a little."

I melted as she slipped lower, her tip seeking my rectum like a heat seeking missile. I squirmed, offering myself too her, moaning as she wormed her way inside.

"Are you my little lovey-dovey? My lamby-wamby that loves her dama in her?"

I reached back to stroke her face, my prong stiffening against its restraining pad. "I’m your minx, your pretty pussy. Are you my dam, source of the child I carry?"

"Your one and only."

I found myself guided, knelt on the floor, bent over the bed as lingerie pooled around my knees. I bucked in time to the rhythm of her invading digit, my strokes providing pressure to my swelling pussy stick. I tensed and clutched her hand with my cheeks as she brought me to a small orgasm, a release that would keep me smooth and happy all through dinner.

I was happy to return the favor, not that I was much above comatose. But my finger nestled happily in her wet tunnel, my knuckle on her love button my palm cupping her mound. Doing me had her ready, excited, so it was took just a few long strokes, before her hips quivered, thrust to hold me within her, and shimmied with release.

We lay together for a pleasant interval, enjoying our nearness, gentle touches and strokes. When we recovered, we had just time to wash, and powder, and perfume, before sliding on our clothes. I took the time to rework Blake’s hair, uncoiling and brushing out her nape pun, moving the catch point to mid-back and catching the strands in a fine golden snood. By seven-thirty, we were decently dressed and coiffed, bejeweled and made up, ready for our evening on the town. Naturally I had on my cameo choker and twisted rope nose ring in place as befitted a dutiful wife.

 

§§§

 

Gene ushered us upstairs where Kenzie had private rooms, suitable for parties and cutting back room deals. Under Thelma’s tutelage, we comen had mastered the art of lifting our skirts so our heels didn’t catch in the hem, sending us tumbling headlong. Gene paused for us to catch up before announcing, "Miz and Mrs, Jones." Mrs. Jones. I always liked hearing that.

As we stepped over the threshold, my glove sprang to my mouth. Kenzie had gone all out: White bells hung from the ceiling, blue and pink streamers arched down to the cornices. A banner hung on the wall: "Congratulations, Moms-to-be." A small layer cake sat in the corner, edges covered in fluted icing, sugar rose buds and a smiling cherub sitting on top.

Thelma came around the white clothed table, took me in her arms. "I’m so happy for you. And for Blake. And for all of us being together. Something told me that first time in Scherazade’s that you were special, and now it’s all come true. Happy maternity, Jaimie."

I hugged her back. "You too, Thelma. You are just the best."

We barely had time to properly admire the cake before the door swung open. "Miz and Mrs, Tunbury." Jan and Drew had arrived to be overwhelmed.

As usual, Jan looked perfect. Drops sparkled at her ears, her pearl choker was elegant. Every hair of her smooth French Roll and stacked crown curls was in place, a honey blonde ribbon curl trailed from her nape over her bare shoulder to nestle lightly in her cleavage. She was in a white moire silk gown with a billowing skirt, matching wrap and satin shoes. Her assets were nicely displayed with the aid of a little tape. Elbow length gloves and platinum bracelet completed the look of an elegant and happy young wife.

Jan ordinarily dressed very demurely, but she liked to dress, and Drew liked dressing her. When the occasion demanded, Jan was not about to let anyone, especially not her best friends, think her Drewkins had had to settle. Jan might be preggie, but that would not slow her down one iota until she absolutely had to. One word with Drew as they oohed and aahed over the decorations convinced me that we weren’t the only ones who had taken an edge off. She had a slight slurring of her endings that hung around awhile after she and Jan got it on. Only the four of us living together for a year in College Switch clued me in.

Eventually our wraps joined Thelma’s, our gloves came off and our wedding sets sparkled. Our spouses settled us, skirts rustling, into our places, alternating wives and spouses. I had Kenzie on my right, Blake on my left. Kenzie was elegant in a ruffled tux shirt, his long, brown, multi-strand braid hanging to the middle of his shoulder blades. With a silver clasp at his nape, and a silver cord twined around the end, I suspected Thelma had been at work, even if Kenzie were something of a dandy. That piratical pearl drop hanging from his lobe was certainly her work. We wives do like grooming our spouses, doing those little possessive touches that say, "This one’s taken. Hand’s off."

The meal courses were portioned at the table, The Back Bench’s custom when a party did not order separately. The soup tureen was of the service, bone white with a cobalt blue and gold rim, intertwined initials "BB" within a laurel wreath. The soup was Potage a la Reine, in honor of the three queens of their hearts, a velvety chicken and egg soup. It was rich enough for a meal in itself, but it was an event, and now we would be eating for two.

Other than our "compliments to the chef" the room was silent except for quiet slurps. Kenzie maintained the highest compliment to a chef was that the customers were too busy eating to talk. We didn’t insult him.

With the bowls cleared away, there was a pause for conversation. Flutes appeared, sparkling fluids poured. Kenzie stood. "When Jaimie called, I realized she was absolutely right, we should celebrate this most momentous process we are all undertaking. It was a push, but I hope you are satisfied with the setting and the decor. My treat." He raised his glass. "To our wives, light of our lives, precious bearers of the fruit of our loins."

We hesitated, wondering whether we should join our spouses. Thelma looked up. "Kenzie?"

"It’s alright. You three have sparkling fruits. This one is a white grape."

Relieved, we touched glasses right and left, sipped, looking deeply at our spouses.

With that, conversation sprang to life, stories of remember when? Of wedding jitters, of learning to live with as well as love one another. This was over a salad for roughage, a sweated German cole slaw, with apple and pecans, all in a caraway dressing. Bits of red and yellow bell pepper added color and flavor. A nice beer, half dark, half light, was the perfect accompaniment. We mommies had to settle for a ginger beer, not your pale, sweet version, but a dark, spicy private label brew.

Blake was playing footsie with me under the table. Her silken toes felt so good rubbing my calf, I just knew my hair would be a wreck the next day at A Cut Above. Jolene would like that. A totally destroyed do was her measure of success, a sign that your spouse couldn’t keep her hands off you. Never mind that after the full treatment I was in total heat from the tugging and mental foreplay.

The next course was a round of Oysters Duxelles, creamed oysters on toast points. The nice thing about sitting next to Kenzie? It was so easy to say what a marvelous chef he was. I could only wonder how Thelma managed not to balloon up, even with a daily hour in the gym,

Our spouses shipped champagne, our juice was sweeter than the sec I preferred but still nice. Jan and I roasted our damas with how they had caught the men’s disease, the inability to ever ask for directions. Fortunately we still had our sense of direction and between maps and GPS devices, we had never failed to make our lodgings yet, even if not exactly on time.

Then came the fowl, a herb roasted chicken, rubbed with rosemary, just a bare hint of sage in the apple and cornbread stuffing, accompanied by a baked tomato half topped with Parmesan and garnished with fresh basil. Fresh flutes appeared for us, the juice a sparkling apple to complement the course. The portions weren’t large, thank goodness, or we would have popped. But the light giblet gravy begged for light bread to sop up every bit of flavor.

The plates disappeared, replaced with a footed bowl of pineapple sherbert, just enough to "clear the pallet." It was delicious, sweet and biting and cool, a perfect break.

Kenzie rose to his feet again. "Toasts are traditionally at the end, but we might not be awake to make them. So here goes." He turned to his right. "Thelma, ‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.’ You are beautiful and intelligent and fun, and great in bed. Above all, I love you for loving me. And now that you are having our baby, my heart overflows with love for you. This cannot begin to say how much I love you, but I did manage to slip out for a little token of my affection." He reached into his coat pocket and produced a small, royal blue box, a color we girls all knew in Capital City came from The Real Thing, the best local jeweler.

Thelma’s layers of shoulder grazing curls swung freely as she got to her feet. The station rarely put her hair up, saying the more formal look scored poorly with viewers. Instead her hair fell to the tops of her shoulder blades, long enough to end in either a rolled page or a full flip, depending on which way the station stylist rolled her curlers.

Without even opening the box, Thelma’s arm went around Kenzie’s neck and her lips melded with his. Their eyes were closed as they clung to one another. I doubt they were even aware any longer that we were in the room as they positively inhaled one another. Young love is powerful, and so inspiring.

She was draped around him when they broke, her forehead resting on his chin. "Don’t you want to see what I got you?"

"Honey, you gave me your greatest prize nine months ago. And a woman’s greatest joy two months ago. If it were the crown jewels, it couldn’t be more precious than you."

Thelma had had plenty of practice delivering lines, both as Miss Coed and now as a television reporter. But this was straight from the heart. Kenzie was so lucky. She was so lucky. They were meant for each other.

She did open the box, a royal blue square. It took me back to that afternoon long ago when our women had produced similar boxes and we had all hoped for rings. I hadn’t gotten mine then, but I had gotten my woman, and that was what counted.

They were gorgeous, a pair of golden drops hanging from half carat diamond studs. She loved him without a present, but her tongue must have drilled to China after she got those.

Kenzie sat, or was that collapsed, but Thelma stayed on her feet. "Kenzie, Darling, you are just the most perfect husband a woman could ever have. You cook, you pick up after yourself, and you’re just the best stud in bed a woman could imagine. Thank you for making me your wife.

"But I have a little announcement of my own. Today, Mr. FitzPatrick, the station manager, agreed to my proposal to do a series following my pregnancy. We’ll do a piece every week, focusing on medical issues, pre-natal care, diet and exercise. Darling, we can do a monthly feature on cooking here at the restaurant. Won’t that be great for business? And if you two don’t mind, they’ll film some of our practices for the Hospital benefit to discuss exercise. We won’t have to give your names at all, or just use a performance name. Think about it.

"But isn’t it wonderful? My very own serial. Thank you, Baby." She patted her stomach through the waist of her raspberry strapless, floor length gown. She was our queen, we all acknowledged it, and now she would be Queen Mother.

When she sat, Drew struggled to her feet. "Lord, Kenzie, but your cooking makes it hard to rise, every delicious bite of it. But when Jan told me about tonight’s program, could you give us a longer lead time from now on, Jaimie? I knew it was the right thing. Jan, Honey-Bear, you have made my life complete. You are beautiful, and classy, and bright, and loving, and I can’t imagine life without you by my side. Now that we’re going to have a daughter, my heart is full to bursting. You’re so full of love, there’s no way our children won’t feel that. Like Kenzie, there’s no way this can express my love and devotion for you, but here’s something to commemorate our family."

Jan was out of her chair like a shot. Drew got the full bear hug. Jan’s enameled fingers clasped her bare shoulders as Jan put the full Magilla on her. You couldn’t have slipped a piece of paper between them anywhere. Drew’s hands wrapped around Jan’s waist and behind, pulling her into her body. I would have sworn when they broke, both of them would have popped their busts right out of their tops, they were so enthusiastic. But when it died down to billing and cooing, Jan stroking Drew’s cheek with her fingertips and rubbing her nose softly across Drew’s everything was still firmly in place.

Jan’s blue box held a vee-shaped pendant, one ruby and five diamonds. "With each child, we’ll put in the proper stone. Rubies for the girls; sapphires for the boys." One thing about our program, it promoted family planning big time.

Jan’s eyes just glistened as she clasped the pendant to her breasts. "Oh, Drewkins, you’ve made me so happy. You’ve been so loving, so supportive, so patient. I’m the happiest wife in the world, secure in your love. We’re going to have a houseful of children to love, and love will fill our house. There may be other comen in the world as happy as I, but there can’t be any happier."

When they sat down, Blake stood up. It was like the hot tub all over, Blake hitting clean-up. "Jaimie, Sugar-Bear, our life together has really just gotten under way, but it seems like we’ve been together forever, maybe in another place and time. Life with you has been full of surprises, for me and for you. I couldn’t be more pleased with how it has turned out, and what’s in store for us. I only hope and pray that you are pleased as well. Now that we know Mary Elizabeth is on her way, it’s time for me to give you this. I love you, Mrs. Jaimie Alba Blair Jones." She produced another royal blue box. The Real Thing must have been getting quite a workout.

Never let an "I love you" go unrewarded. I wasn’t about to be outdone by the other wives. I put a full lip lock on Blake right then and there, coiling myself around her for all I was worth. My fingers stroked her snood, my hand covered her back, pulling bare skin together. She pressed me close, her tongue drilled for oil and found it. If she had thrown me down on the table, I would have just spread like melted butter.

"Blakey-Bear, three years ago when you first put a move on me, and don’t try to deny you did it, if someone had told me I would look like this, and furthermore, like looking like this; that I would be a bride, and a wife, and a mother-to-be, I would have thought they had either escaped from the booby hatch or had dropped LSD in their hash pipe. But now, because of you and your love, I can’t imagine being anything else."

I opened my blue box. Inside was a pin, a jewel encrusted seahorse, symbol of our program, the carrying male. I loved it. "Pin me, please, Blake."

She did, carefully over my collarbone. She stole another kiss, tender and sweet. "Thank you for being my wife."

I touched her hand. "Thank you for making me your wife."

I smiled at Jan and Thelma. "I’ve been thinking about your offer, Thelma, to be god-parents to Mary Elizabeth, and I talked with our pastor, Rev. Thistlewaite. He said there wouldn’t be a problem with more than one set of god-parents. Why don’t we all be god-parents to each of our children? Would that be alright?"

Delighted cries said it would and everybody kissed their neighbor. Just those Frenchy cheek kisses, a friendly embrace. It didn’t feel odd at all when I kissed Kenzie’s cheek, and Drew didn’t mind a friendly smack from Thelma. I wasn’t even jealous of Blake planting a quick smooch on Jan.

Cauliflower au gratin in individual ramekins accompanied a pork tenderloin marinated in apple cider and roasted to a turn. Corn fingers with unsalted sweet butter soaked up a light ginger brown sauce with pearl onions. It’s a good thing I hadn’t eaten lunch or my eyes would have bugged out. The prospects of good loving dimmed with each mouthful, but it was all so-o good! Blake took my hand in hers, stroked my knuckles with her thumb. I smiled at her. I was hers, carrying her, our, baby, in the company of our friends, the other mommies, and that was as it should be.

After that, there was cake, thin slices with lemon custard filling. It was light, so light we could pretend there were no calories. And finally there was cheese, a lightly smoked Halvarti, and candy mints, and hot chocolate instead of coffee and tea. So we didn’t completely avoid caffeine, after all we weren’t fanatical about it. It did dawn on me that I would have one bodacious time trying to remember everything for my dietary diary.

Then we were done, stuffed to the gills, congratulating Kenzie, hugging each other, the girls delighted with our spouses, pleased with our gifts, happy to rock the cradle together. We didn’t leave for a full ten minutes after putting on our wraps, not wanting the evening to end. But it did. Jan and I said our goodbyes, and kissed Thelma and Kenzie’s cheeks, they’re just the most wonderful friends, before repeating the scene the valets brought up our vehicles.

Buckled in, I lay the seat back, closed my eyes and let out a long sigh.

"Happy?"

"Delirious. Can you drive?"

"Barely." Blake’s hand covered mine. "I do love you, Sugar-Bear."

I smiled contentedly, eyes mere slits. "I know, Blakey-Bear. But it’s always nice to hear it from my beloved."

"Am I?"

"You have doubts? If I weren’t so full, I’d remove them right here."

"Not really. But it’s always nice to hear."

Memo to file: tell Blake that I love her more often.

 

§§§

 

"Mom? Sorry it’s so late."

"No, nothing’s wrong. We were just out celebrating with the Tunburys and the Reyneaux’s."

"Dinner. At The Back Bench. We took you and Dad there when he came up on that appeal."

"We got the news today."

"The news."

"That’s right, I’m official."

"No, you don’t have to wake him."

"Hi, Dad. You’re going to be a grandpa. Better start scoping out junior size fishing poles."

"Yes, Dad, more than alright. It’s a privilege and a joy as well as a duty."

"You always told Gwen and me not to be bound by convention."

"I didn’t expect it then either. But now, I wouldn’t change it for the world."

"Don’t worry too hard. There’s a bunch of people here paid to do that."

"I love you, too. Let me talk to Mom again."

"No, Mom. I just wanted to thank you for raising me. And to say I love you."

"Thanks, Mom. Talk to you later."

We were too tired and too stuffed to do anything other than snuggle. But you know what? That feeling of being safe and secure in your lover’s love is what it’s all about.

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Sydney Michelle. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.